


Strange Realizations & Uncanny Moments

by weaksauce



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Mentions of Bro - Freeform, not stridercest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaksauce/pseuds/weaksauce
Summary: Dave comes to a realization while having a conversation with Dirk.





	Strange Realizations & Uncanny Moments

It's in the middle of a conversation about puppets that it hits you. It's in the middle of a conversation about puppets, of all fucking things, that your entire image, your entire world, is shattered and rebuilt from one damn small seed of a thought.

"Nah, but you see that's the thing about them. The selection of unnatural colors is one of the things, Dave."

You've known Dirk for a while now, and you figured it was about time to get to the bottom of why smuppets were so goddamn appealing. Not to you, of course. Mainly, you were curious why Bro was interested in them, like why were puppets such hot shit, how many layers of ironic were they really, why could Bro have more interest in pieces of fabric and foam than you. Okay, not the last one.

"But they're just so fucking... garish. And the fucking noses all upturned and impudent and shit... Not gonna lie, there still might be nightmares."

It's in the middle of this discussion about what parts of smuppets are "a thing" and which aren't that not-Bro says it. That he does it.

"Dude, if you don't get it, you ain't gonna get it." One eyebrow raises slightly, ironically mocking you for your lack of appreciation for puppets. It's a joke. You know it's a joke.

And fuck if that's not an exact replica of something Bro would say and do. Fuck if it wasn't uncanny. There had been tons of small instances like this before, most of which you just choose to repress deeply or sweep under a rug of "he'snotBrohe'snotBrohe'snotBro." But this time, it makes you think. Not that you don't constantly think about it when you're with him, but this time you really think. Hard. There's a simple realization. He's a Strider. No, he's the Strider. He is Strider.

"Yeah, I guess not. Sorry to shit all over your smutty hobby or whatever. Just trying to, I dunno, get some insight into stuff," you say, and his expression remains unreadable, but you know this face. You know everything about it, and you swear it softens. And you know it isn't visible to anyone but you and him. And the reason makes you want to run out of the fucking room and ollie the fuck outtie to another world. You know he wouldn't follow you.

"I understand," he says. "You know you're free to pick my brain at any time."

"Yeah," you say lamely softly. He's everything you've ever wanted to be. He's what you've always looked up to and more. When you say that you're a Strider, it's not your name. It's his name. The whole concept of it is him, and everything you've been molded to be is him. In regards to timey shit, there is an original Strider, but this goes beyond just the time someone came to be. Regardless of whatever fucked up timeline shenanigans there have been, you just know in your heart that he's the original. You're just a fake, a copy, a replica, made in his image, a spinoff Strider.

You're not completely sure why this thought chose this moment to come crashing down on you. Was it his similarity to Bro? It couldn't be that simple. But in this moment, it feels strange to be you. To be you, looking at him is like looking at a better you in a mirror. And you are awesome, because he's awesome. But he's awesome simply because he's awesome, which is a step above. You're thinking circles around yourself, and you know that Bro would catch the subtle changes of the look on your face. But this guy hadn't known you long, and you're not sure if--

"...You okay?" he asks. Is he really him? You know he's not, but how could he read you if he weren't? Are you just getting soft, becoming more transparent?

"I'm fine," you say, and he looks at you in a way that says he knows you're not fine. But it's not a way that mocks you for being weak. He's not him.

"Alright then," he says, letting it go. His eyes drift away. Fuck, he's so cool.

"Actually," you start, and his eyes are back on you. He's wearing shades, but you know those shades. You know the face behind them, somewhat, and you know where his eyes are behind them. You regret opening your stupid mouth again. You were both content to slide comfortably into a nonchalant state of ignoring your problems, but you just couldn't, could you? Your thoughts are hard to put into words, and probably irrational, but you also think that he's the only one who would understand how you're feeling right now. The only one who could understand.

You start slowly. "...Do you ever wonder..." You stop because the spot where you know his eyes are is still on you. He shifts his head like 0.03 degrees to the left, and you know from the gesture that he understood your feelings and respected the fuck out of them. God damnit. Being considerate isn't cool. At least, it's never been cool until this moment.

You continue, your heart soothed as hell by Dirk's considerate little movement. "Do you ever wonder if you're the real one?" The voice isn't stable, and it makes the question sound at least a metric fuckton crazier.

"The real one?" he asks, not confrontational, just needing more information. You think providing him with more information will probably make you sound even more insane, but this even, accepting tone coming out of that face makes you open up to him anyway.

"Like, the real Strider or something. I mean, the original one, the real... you, I guess."

"Oh," he says, and you realize that he definitely thinks all this time travel and dead Daves and shit have driven you crazy. And they probably have.

"It's okay to just say I'm crazy and leave it at that, too. I, uh, think that's probably the truth, actually. If you're totally weirded out by the question or can't relate at all, I really get it."

"...No, it's not that. Fuck, did I look like I thought you were crazy? That's not the case at all. Actually, I know what you mean. This is me, completely relating." His face is still utterly deadpan, but on scrutiny, you know he's telling the truth. And not in the ironic way, either. His voice is a lot steadier than yours, and it calms you down. This voice, this face, telling you things it never did before, reassuring you.

"You really... Oh, okay. I guess I wasn't expecting you to get it, or at least not to admit to getting it."

"I was just as surprised about you telling me. Or, telling me right now anyway. For a time lord or whatever, I expected your timing to be a little more... timely."

"You just used the goddamn word 'time,' or like variations of 'time,' three times in the same sentence."

"So did you."

"Fuck. Uh, anyway. Let's keep talking about how you can relate to that original question."

"Alright. Should I go first?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, it doesn't matter."

"Okay. The conundrum of original versus fake. It's certainly engaging. My take on it was always that you were the original because I learned so much from you, from reading about you and your lore. I always wanted to emulate you in some way if I could, but I don't think I really succeeded. But what I meant about being able to relate was really relating to how many goddamn splinters of me there are floating around. And I know there are probably just as many, if not more dead Daves. I guess I don't usually view it as "original" versus "fake" because all of them are different. I mean, even the splinters of me have kind of taken a branching path from my way of thinking, diverged evolutionarily. They both are and aren't me, simultaneously… Actually, fuck. I could talk about this shit for a while, so you best jump in now."

"Oh, uh. Yeah. I actually wasn't even considering dead Daves. I mean, I was, but I don't think they... challenge my idea of the original so much because they're just literally me who fucked up and died, and I've gotten kind of used to them. But I guess I was really thinking about, like... between you, me, Bro, and, uh... the sweet alternate future Dave. Striders, you know. You said you feel like future me, your bro, was the original one because he was the person you looked up to, and... that's interesting. Like, I know who's the original thinking about time shit and who came first the Strider or the egg or whatever, but just now... I guess my image of who it is kind of shifted. Which is totally not logical, but just... Yeah."

"I guess it matters how we're trying to define original here. The first one, the one who most accurately embodies "Strider?" Any way of thinking about it, I think it would be you. But what do you think? Also, what shifted?"

"I was thinking... the original is the person who... made being a Strider a thing? But not in a time way, not the one who did it first, but the one who kind of broke out of just cool and ironic and became cooler than that?"

"Elevated being a Strider to mean something else?"

"I guess so, yeah. Breaking it down this far is starting to make my idea not make sense anymore."

"We can talk about something else if you want.”

"No, that's alright... I actually feel like you're the only one I can talk to about this shit... I'm probably just making you super uncomfortable though," you say.

"Of course not. I'm not uncomfortable at all with talking to you about anything, really. I was more concerned that I was the one making you uncomfortable, to be honest."

"I couldn't say that talking to someone who looks like a younger version of my bro isn't a little uncomfortable, I guess. But, uh, I'm starting to get used to it."

"I don't just look like him. I am him," he says, and the words make your veins turn to ice. It's an obvious statement. Of course you know it's true, but hearing him say it so straightforwardly is just... "I don't mean to remind you of that. Just kind of trying to be more honest and straightforward about things. Meeting my friends in person really drove home the fact of how much of an incomprehensible asshole I could be sometimes. Anyway, we can get back to further dissecting the idea of Strider, if you want."

His thoughts of being honest strike something in you, and you think again about him being the only one who can understand your current whirlwind of thoughts--or at least the only one you can trust to grab ahold of the metaphorical scalpel and cut them apart in a way that satisfies you.

"I was thinking that you're the original one," you say, putting your earlier Earth-shattering (okay, poor choice of words) thought into terms simple enough to be easily digested.

"Hm," he says. "Why do you think that?"

A simple question, but how can you even begin to answer it in a way that makes sense?

"Since I was pretty much a baby, I kind of looked up to, well for a short period kind of idolized my bro, who I guess is you. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I spent a good part of my formative years trying to be like a worse version of you. But the real you is so much better than that shitty version that kind of rubbed off on me? Fuck, is this making any sense at all?" You rub one temple, and he just keeps looking at you like he's working on undoing a complex knot in his mind.

"For what it's worth, from all accounts I've heard of him, I think the two of you are nothing alike."

Your not-bro must have pushed the right button because you finally feel like some kind of oppressive weight has been lifted. Was that the root of your worry? You guess that the original Strider, Dirk being better, stronger, or cooler than you, or any of that hadn't been your real hang up, had it? Had it really just been a nagging worry that _he_ had left some kind of permanent, irrevocable mark on you? That you were like _him_? Maybe. Maybe that wasn't all it was, maybe it wasn't something as simple as that, but you know that his words have somehow made you feel a relief that you can't control.

"...Alright," is all you can say.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" he asks, face saying that the mental knot hadn't completely unwound itself just yet.

"I think... that somehow kind of solved my issue for now, actually."

"Cool."

"Yeah... Is there anything you want to talk about? Like about him... or anything?" you ask, knowing that he knows that you don't really want to talk about this anymore.

"Nah, put a fuckin' mental bookmark in that shit. You ready to pause this for now?"

"Yeah," you say, grateful again that he gets the hint and knows when to stop digging, unlike some other people you associate with. "What were we talking about before? Fucking... puppets and centaurs or something? Goddamn centaurs, like what's the appeal? Be honest, is it the horse dick? I'm totally not judging if it is...”

The conversation continues on comfortably after that. Well, maybe not completely comfortably, but normally. Familiarly. You're not sure if the two of you will ever be able to have a conversation devoid of strange realizations or uncanny moments, but maybe that's okay. Maybe it's something you need, and, though you never really thought about this before, maybe it's something that he needs, too.

**Author's Note:**

> recently i keep wanting to add more and improve and edit and edit everything i write, but i realize that i won't actually post things if i keep doing that, so i've just posted this. i wanted to add a setting and some other things because right now it feels like they're just kind of... suspended in space?? and having a conversation, but it is what it is.  
> tldr; gonna try to start posting more.  
> thanks for reading (:


End file.
